


Night

by moves_like_water



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Alternate Season One, Dark Will, Hallucinations, Killer Will, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Ravenstag, Strangers to Lovers, Wendigo, Will smokes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-14
Updated: 2016-02-08
Packaged: 2018-05-13 23:41:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,411
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5721454
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moves_like_water/pseuds/moves_like_water
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Will Graham has an 'incident' and shortly thereafter meets a strange and alluring man at a bar. Later, he finds that the man is hired by the FBI to work alongside him. When he can't be avoided the two become fast friends and their relationship shifts to dark places.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

_Alexander Chamberlain was a killer. He lived for violence and he could get high off the salty metallic fumes of fresh blood and the sweet rush of adrenaline. To him, there was nothing sweeter than watching the light fade from a person’s eyes as his thumbs pressed against their windpipe. Blue lips. Red blood. Dark, unseeing eyes. He would never be considered a connoisseur of the arts, but this he could admit was beautiful. This was priceless._

_Alexander Chamberlain’s eyes were black. Black as the congealed blood that covered Will Graham’s shirt and arms and fists. Adrenaline was the best medicine; he couldn’t feel any pain from his knuckles that had been destroyed from rapid repetitive contact with the face and body of the Boston Boa. Warmth settled in the pit of his stomach in an unfamiliar but not unpleasant way. He thought he might be smiling but perhaps he was only bearing his teeth with a warning that had come too late._

_He was calm as he cleaned up. They were in Chamberlain’s private home and nobody knew that Will was here. No one would ever know. Perhaps Jack Crawford would be perplexed as to why an extremely active serial killer suddenly stopped in the middle of his streak but Will would find an explanation. There were always reasons and his were always good; he was the best profiler they had, after all. The kitchen had tile floor, when scoured with bleach there would be no trace of the blood. Every smooth surface wiped down with careful consideration. Will’s prints wouldn’t be found if somebody took the time to look but he was certain no one would look. Chamberlain wouldn’t be missed for quite some time. Disposal of the body was easy and methodical. If he didn’t think about it Will could almost pretend that this was only another crime scene. A mental reenactment to profile a killer. “This is my design.”_

 

Will watched his hand shake as he lifted the glass to his lips. The cheapest whiskey they had on the rocks- it was cheaper to drink at home but the thought of being there at the moment was too much to handle. The gulp went down smooth though he was unable to stop the shudder that started at the base of his neck even while his veins lit up with fire from the alcohol. At this point he was unsure how much he’d had, although it was only due to the fact that his mind was elsewhere. He held his liquor well.

He’d never been to this bar before. It was only about twenty minutes out from Wolf Trap but he typically preferred to sit at home with his dogs and a bottle of Jack. There was something tiresome about dimly lit dirty small-town bars filled to the brim with small-town day drinkers that often stayed the night. Normally he would be uncomfortable in such a scenario, but there was something about his aura that warded the other patrons away; this he was thankful for. He’d come here because he didn’t want to be alone, didn’t want to sit there while his dogs stared at him knowing that he’d done something sick. At the same time there was no appeal for him in talking to any of the bar’s regular customers.

He stared down at the bottom of his glass. Shiny cubes of ice slowly melting with just the tiniest hint of amber tinting the corners. Somewhere behind him the ceaseless chatter flowed together to create a deafening hiss- one that all of a sudden became the sound of wind rattling the tallest branches of bare winter trees. A shiver gripped his body once more and he was aware of himself standing in the creek where he often went to fish, yet now he wasn’t wearing his gear but bloodied jeans and the flannel that he’d burned not twenty-four hours ago. Up ahead a massive stag, deep like a starless night snorted and shook his expansive antlers as he walked against the current. A black feather loosened itself from his neck and it blew towards him shooting like an arrow rather than fluttering. Will felt white pain in his skull and reached up to feel velvety sharp buds breaking from his own skin.

“Are you alright?” The thick European accent sliced through the fog coming off the water and brought Will back to reality.

Will blinked slowly, his vision transitioning from the ice blue tones of the river to the low orange of the bar. The stag stood momentarily behind the bartender who stopped drying the mug he was holding when he realized the scruffy looking stranger was staring at him. Will gave a single nod of his head to the question and offered up what was more a grimace than a smile in apology. He looked down at his empty glass, not wanting to make a scene. The bartender turned to a patron sitting at the end of the bar and quietly asked him if he could get her anything else. Though he wasn’t really listening, it occurred to him that the man was American.

Almost on cue the voice sounded again. “Are you alright?”

Will slowly rolled his head toward the man who had spoken. The scent of expensive cologne drifted around him from a few seats down, something both oaky and floral with an underlying scent of something that threatened to bring his mind back to a dark room and a dead man and his own hands black with drying blood. The man was dressed in a black leather jacket of the expensive ‘movie star' variety. His hair was parted and left an immaculate wave of bangs that hung low over his forehead favoring the left side. If he was being honest with himself, Will wasn’t entirely convinced of the man’s existence. A man who was clearly this well off did not belong in a shitty piss-pot of a pub in middle of nowhere Falls Church, Virginia, yet here he was.

“Forgive me. I studied medicine at Johns Hopkins. I only ask after your well-being because you look as if you were having an episode.”

Will snorted. Trust this to be the one night that that some good samaritan high-class doctor to come in and start asking questions when he inevitably made a scene.

“I assure you, doctor I’m fine.” He responded through clenched teeth, not looking up to make eye contact.

“Not fond of eye contact, are you?”

“Eyes are distracting.” Will rubbed a hand down his face, an attempt to brush away haunted memories. “And I don’t mean to be rude, but I didn’t come here for medical attention.”

“Shying away from polite conversation. That’s only fair. I suppose I am imposing on a stranger. That was never my intention.”

“Alright.” Will gave a half-smile to the man, still refusing to look him in the eye. “Well thank you for your concern.”

Will rolled his eyes and went back to his empty glass, the bartender refilling it as he went past. He drank slower than before, casually keeping the corner of his eye trained on the doctor. He kept to himself as much as Will had been, after their brief conversation he’d spoken to no one but the bartender when he came by to refill his glass of wine. Half the time he appeared to be admiring himself in the mirror behind the counter, but closer observation revealed that he was taking in his surroundings. His eyes moved slowly, inspecting the bar patrons through their reflected image. Will got the impression that he was watching one man in particular, a really stupid-looking bastard, loud and obnoxious, clapping his buddies on the shoulder and yelling every so often. The doctor hid it well, though with Will’s particular skill set it didn’t go unnoticed. There was something calculating and cold in the doctor’s gaze and its familiarity was frightening.

He broke away from his observation to pull a pack of cigarettes from the pocket of his coat. This being exactly the shitty type of place to neglect a no-smoking rule, a glass ashtray lay on the bar a few feet away and Will slid it towards himself, casually lighting up like he’d been doing it for years. Up until last night he hadn’t touched a cigarette since his days as a cop. It was like riding a bike; you don’t forget. On his first drag he inhaled the smoke into his lungs. Fuck the fact that he was killing important tissues, he really didn’t give a shit. Jack Crawford would be so pleased when he found out Will had taken up his old habit.

Feeling more confident than he had in days, or perhaps sensing some sort of comradery with the strange man who watched his fellow man like animals, Will found it in himself to speak. “Who is he?”

The stranger’s lips perked up to form a shallow smile and he looked back at Will and the look in his eyes was dangerously flirtatious.

“Who is who?”

“I see you watching,” Will said. “So who is he?”

“An arrogant bastard by the looks of it. Disturbingly rude.”

Will chuckled. “You sound like you have a personal vendetta against the guy.”

“We may have crossed paths at one point or another.”

A lightning bolt of ice shot down his spine but Will managed to stop himself from physically shuddering. “Did you follow him here?” Will said it like a joke, but the way the guy was acting, at least part of him was convinced this was the truth.

“An unfortunate coincidence.” For the first time Will allowed the dark eyes to meet his. Unsettling and alluring, Will found he could not see what was behind them and looked away. Empath that he was, it was rare that he couldn’t get a good read on a person. Yes, something was very off about the doctor.

“What brings you out here?” A nod at the glass of red wine in the doctor’s hand. “It’s painfully obvious that you don’t belong.”

“I could say the same about you.”

“I’m not the one wearing a thousand dollar jacket.”

“Not having expensive taste doesn’t mean you belong in a place like this.”

“Oh yeah? What does?”

“You. Your personality. You normally drink alone, am I correct? This doesn’t bother you, but why was tonight different? You’re not here for company, but tonight you don’t want to be alone.”

“Are you psychoanalyzing me?”

“My apologies.”

“I thought you said you studied medicine.”

“I was a surgeon many years ago. I’ve been in psychiatry for quite some time.”

“Should have guessed.”

“Do I look the type?”

“Not in dress, but in character. You have that look about you. See everyone and judge everyone based upon their tiniest mannerisms. It’s a dangerous hobby.”

“Dangerous in what way?”

“Are you saying you disagree?”

“I’d love to hear your opinion on the matter.”

“In my opinion there’s two reasons. If you judge someone based entirely off small actions you might see too much, and be unable to determine if your assumptions are true,” he paused, looking into the man’s eyes in a way he’d normally avoid. “And if you spend so much time trying to figure out the nature of another you may forget to hide your own.”

Something in the stranger’s gaze darkened. He covered it quickly, but not enough to stop Will from getting a glimpse behind the mask. His vision glitched and he saw the stag behind the man, antlers poking up as if they belonged to his company. He knew he should be afraid but instead he just felt an insatiable curiosity. For a moment the two just looked at each other, Will surprising himself when he didn’t look away. The cigarette between his fingers was gathering ash and he tapped it into the tray, shifting his attention before it got uncomfortable. He raised it to his lips and took a shaky drag to steady himself. If you focus on your inhaling you stop focusing on blood coursing in and out of your veins.

“Something is eating at you.”

“Don’t have to be a shrink to figure that out. Unfortunately, this is where I draw the line in conversation with friendly strangers.”

“We don’t have to be strangers, you know.”

“We don’t. But I would prefer to keep it that way. If you don’t mind.”

“Of course. It was only an offer. I get the feeling that you and I are a lot alike.”

“Precisely.”

His companion chuckled. “It’s unfortunate. Although this night was looking as if it was about to be a failure. I must say, talking to you has changed the course of things.”

“My night’s been changed as well, but I’m not entirely sure how I feel about it.”

“It’s been changed in what way?”

“I’ve been feeling dangerous.”

“And?”

“And I think I like that.”

Will’s own words surprised him. He was feeling reckless but he wasn’t sure if it was an extension of his actions the other night, or if it was the effect of the predator who he’d somehow managed to be sitting next to. He thought the toxicity of this man was only adding more fuel to the fire he’d started when his hands closed around Alexander Chamberlin’s throat.

“Do you feel powerful?”

“I feel broken. But I don’t know what’s going to come crawling out of my ashes.”

“Something magnificent I’m sure.”

The doctor was closer to him now. Will felt like he was drowning in his cologne and simultaneously being wrapped in the heat that poured off him like smoke. He was having a hard time deciphering what was real and what wasn’t. The sound of the river was deafening in his ears; the place he went to find calm, to escape was being tainted. The stag had followed him there and he had brought blood with him. If he looked hard enough he could see the man before him lurking in the trees. Waiting and watching like a wolf ready to make a kill. He saw him dressed in leather with his teeth in the rude man’s neck. Then it became his own. He could feel the blood pumping out of his body with increasing force- the stranger’s face becoming bathed in red.

All of a sudden it felt to Will that he knew this man. They’d never met, but he knew him. Their minds were connected the way that he connected with the mind of a killer while he was at the scene of their crime. Here there was no real victim but explicit knowledge that there had been one. Many. That there would be more. This felt different from connecting with all the killers he’d caught before. He was convinced it was the same feeling but this time he didn’t want to run. There was no urge to hide from him; Will was willing to be a boat pulled to shore.

“I’m going to the bathroom,” Will said abruptly as he stood.

This was panic mode. He didn’t know where this night was headed or how it had happened so fast, but he knew his own desires were scaring him. His cigarette remained lit, forgotten in the ashtray and he did not miss the doctor throwing a bill absently on the counter as he moved to stand himself. Will closed the door to the bathroom behind him. It was a one man stall in the back of the establishment, down a dimly lit shallow hall with one door labeled “restroom” and the other “private”. He avoided looking in the mirror but splashed cold water on his face in case he was dreaming. Not quite two minutes had passed before the other man entered, pressing the lock with his thumb until it clicked into place.

Will took a step back and when he did the other man was already upon him, one leg stepping in between Will’s legs and pressing against him. He was unsurprised when his back hit the wall, the man cupping his jaw with long delicate fingers and pressing their lips together like he was starved for it. Will responded with equal force, his hands wrapping around the doctor’s thin but well-muscled torso, nipping at the other man’s lips playfully.

“You taste like blood,” he murmured against his lips when there was a lull in the kissing.

The stranger offered no verbal response, but his hands began to thread through Will’s hair, gentle at first, then tugging enough to cause his scalp to burn. Will’s fingers wormed their way underneath the button-down he’d been wearing underneath his expensive jacket that had somehow already made its way to the bathroom floor. His fingernails bit into the soft flesh underneath until he could feel blood well up beneath them.

His heart thudded in his ears, a ceaseless beat becoming one with the hoofbeats of the stag who wandered somewhere in the back of his mind. He felt the fingers of the doctor press against the velvety antler points poking out from his skull. A moan escaped his lips and he shuddered at the mix of pain and pleasure. The man took this moment to move his hands to unfasten Will’s jeans as he took his lower lip between his teeth and bit. The coppery flavor of blood bloomed in his mouth causing his legs to weaken. He opened his eyes to meet those of his companion. He couldn’t tell in the dim lighting of the bar bathroom but they were almost maroon in color and he could swear they were flecked with red.

“I don’t do this.” Will said.

“Nor do I. That doesn’t seem to be stopping either of us.”

Will shook his head. “No, it doesn’t.”

The other man pulled him in for a much deeper kiss, shaking Will to his core. He trembled with desire for this man that he refused to know. This stranger that he felt more connected to than he had with anyone before.

Will’s own hand moved to the front of the other man’s trousers where he could feel the stirrings of a hardening erection. An almost inaudible moan escaped his lips before the doctor pushed his hand away. He lowered himself to his knees and if he was in a normal state of mind Will would have laughed at the ridiculousness of the situation. As wrong as it seemed there was something so alluring about the expensively dressed man kneeling on a dirty bathroom floor with nimble fingers working his jeans and boxers down together.

The river screamed in his ears and when the waters calmed his eyes opened to see the doctor, recollecting himself rapidly and looking almost as put-together as he’d had when he arrived. Although he’d somehow managed to pull up his pants, he knew that he looked considerably more disheveled than he had when he’d arrived which was a pretty impressive achievement. The doctor eyed him carefully. He didn’t speak and there was a light in his eyes that Will wasn’t sure had been there before.

“Thank you,” Will said awkwardly and hated himself for it.

The doctor smiled in response. “Thank you. Perhaps we’ll meet again.”

Perhaps not. Will couldn’t imagine reliving this night. He turned away and heard the door open and listened until his footsteps drowned away into the white noise of the bar. For the first time since the night he’d killed Chamberlain Will Graham looked himself in the mirror. His eyes reflected his crime and the dark circles the hung below them showed his conflict. He ran a cautious hand through his hair, half expecting to reveal the tiniest velvet buds on either side of his temple. Of course, there was nothing there, but that didn’t appease him any. Will knew that the road he had begun was a dangerous one; if he was careful it was possible he could turn off it and let his present fade to the past. In the moment it seemed plausible and he felt his life could go back to the way it was. So he hoped, god he hoped, that the man he’d met tonight did not become a part of it.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will meets the newest member of Jack's team

 

Will’s next week was surprisingly calm. The serial killer scene was quiet (he likely had Alex Chamberlain’s dead body to thank for that). He took the week off of work- he only taught classes a few days a week and he never missed; he figured a little break was alright considering the circumstances. For the next seven days he did nothing but sleep (as best he could), drink, and take care of his dogs. Going back to routine was strange but not unwelcome. Aside from Winston, the newest addition to his pack, the dogs treated him like normal. Winston had been particularly sensitive to picking up on Will’s moods since Will had found him wandering on the side of the road a couple of months ago. They’d taken a quick liking to each other and Winston had quickly realized that Will was different when he’d come back from Boston. It wasn’t that he was scared of Will, but he was worried about him, that was much worse. He watched him like a deer alert for predators and if he sensed that his master was beginning to slip into his unreality he would press against him and whine until he came back. That hurt worse than his own confusion. 

Will felt broken not by guilt as he should have been, but by disgust. When he closed his eyes and relived the sensation of his fingers finally cutting off Chamberlain’s airway and the feeling of his pulse fading the warmth that filled him was both terrifying and exhilarating. It wasn’t to say that he enjoyed the act of killing, he wouldn’t call himself that far gone, but the satisfaction and the overwhelming feeling that what he’d done was _ right  _ was certainly a pleasure. Therein lay his problem: he’d done something terrible yet felt no regret for the act. So when he saw Alex Chamberlain’s knowing grin as he stood behind him in the mirror the best he could do was pour himself a glass of whiskey and light up another cigarette. 

It was surreal when Will returned to work. The last few days had changed so much in him that it gave him the distinct feeling that he’d crawled out of the wardrobe and ended up somewhere so normal he’d begun to fear it. Classes should have been easy, but since he’d begun to work actively with Jack Crawford he’d had to deal with prying students wanting to get as much information as possible about current cases. That being said, the amount of times students had inquired about the “Boston Boa” in his classes was unbearable. He declined to answer most of them due to the fact that it was an open case, and therefore predominantly confidential. Even his refusal to discuss the case did nothing to disturb the image of Alexander Chamberlain seated in the back row. 

He’d just finished with his last class and was sitting at his desk when he got a call from Jack Crawford. They hadn’t spoken since before Will had singularly and secretly solved the Boa case; it was nothing more than a coincidence, though a pleasant one. He let it ring a few times before he picked it up. 

“Jack.” 

“Will. I’d like you to come in today.” 

Will sighed and rubbed his temple absently. “Has something broken on the Boa case?” He rolled his eyes as he said the nickname. Trust Boston P.D. to come up with one of the worst serial killer monikers Will had ever heard. 

“No. There’s someone I would like for you to meet. He’ll be working with us from now on.”

“A new profiler?” 

“No. A psychiatrist. He’s extremely qualified.” 

“A psychiatrist, Jack? Why the hell is a psychiatrist joining the team?” 

“I believe he’ll be an asset to the team. His experience with psychotic patients could come in handy when profiling-”

“-Cut the shit, Jack. You’re keeping an eye on me. Because I’m unstable.”

“Will-”

“No, no, Jack, I get it. I’m unstable, I need a shrink. Especially when I’m called over to active crime scenes every other fucking day. Who is he, anyway? Why didn’t you just get Alana to do it?” 

Jack sighed on the other end of the line. “He was recommended to me by Alana Bloom. Alana felt she was too close to you. It would be inappropriate.” 

Will sighed audibly into the receiver, silently cursing Crawford for pretending to give a shit. He was reluctant but knew this was a battle he wouldn’t win. “Alright. I’ll meet him. I can be there in twenty.”

“Make it fifteen.” Jack said, and hung up the phone. 

“Fuck.” Will hung up the phone and pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes. The last thing he needed to worry about was an F.B.I.-hired psychiatrist on his back reporting his mental instabilities to Jack Crawford. If the guy was good, and Will was assuming he was if Alana recommended him, it wouldn’t be difficult to pick up on any abnormalities in his behavior. He’d killed a man for fucks sake. Not that he thought he’d be caught, but it wasn’t a stretch to say he’d be proclaimed unfit for field work. Aside from his dogs, profiling and catching killers was the one good thing he did. Looked like he would be saying goodbye to that. 

Will showed up to the BAU headquarters twenty-five minutes later. He pulled out his phone to call Jack but the man showed up before he could dial. The burly man ushered him into the building muttering something along the lines of “what happened to fifteen minutes?” Will didn’t argue, just followed him down the hall. 

“What’s your rush?”

“I don’t really want to keep the man waiting, Will.” 

“You couldn’t have picked a day I didn’t have classes, Jack?”

Jack shot him a look as the two men made their way to his office. “He was already coming in today to finalize paperwork with the Bureau.” 

Will wanted to point out that the only reason he was here was because it had been days since Jack had seen him. All considered, that should be a good thing, but he knew Jack was worried he’d gone off the deep end. Too bad he already had. Jack walked into his office and held the door for Will, stepping behind his desk as he motioned toward the man sitting in front of it. 

The blood drained from Will’s face as Jack spoke, “Will, this is Dr. Hannibal Lecter, Dr. Lecter, I’d like you to meet Will Graham.”

Hoofbeats of the ravenstag echoed through the hallway and Will heard it snort as it passed by. Will couldn’t avoid the man’s eyes as he stood and shook his hand firmly. “A pleasure,” he said warmly, never breaking eye contact and holding his grip for just a hair too long. 

“Doctor… Lecter.” 

He never thought he would see this man again yet somehow here he was in the last place Will would have expected to see him. At least on this side of the justice system. 

“Will?” 

Will looked up at Jack, almost not realizing that he’d spoken. The man had mistaken his hesitation for rudeness rather than shock. Let him interpret it that way; it would be better for all of them. His boss motioned for him to sit so he reluctantly took the seat next to Doctor Lecter. 

His face drained of color, and aside from the prolonged eye contact he refused to look at the man. If he didn’t look he could pass this off as just another hallucination. It was easier that way. Just the man’s presence made him feel sick: his temples pounding with need for blood. He didn’t know why this Hannibal Lecter affected him like this. He didn’t know anything about the man aside from his occupation and a gut feeling that he was one of the men he hunted for a living. 

Jack droned on about a case they were working on, maybe the Boa, maybe something new he hadn’t seen yet. Either way, Will didn’t know; he stared at a spot on the wall behind Jack and tried to picture what life would be like if he’d been someone else. 

He didn’t know how long he sat there but eventually Jack stood and walked around the desk to shake Lecter’s hand. Will tuned in enough to hear him say, “Thank you for your time, Doctor Lecter. I think I speak for the team when I say we look forward to working with you and gaining your insight in our cases.” 

Hannibal chuckled. “Thank you, Jack. I was very pleased when I received your call. I’m grateful for the opportunity.” 

“Well, we both have Alana Bloom to thank for that.” Jack clapped Hannibal on the shoulder lightly and Will internally cringed at the awkwardness of the situation. 

“Indeed we do. I’ll have to have the both of you over for dinner sometime.” Another lingering glance in Will’s direction. “Will too, of course.” 

Will grimaced and turned his head until Hannibal returned his attention to Jack. He tuned out until the psychiatrist was leaving Jack’s office. “Very good to meet you, Will.” Ice gripped his spine, threatening to breach his soul. 

“What the hell was that, Will?”

“I’m sorry, Jack,” he said, voice dripping with sarcasm. “Am I supposed to pretend not to be offended by this stunt?” 

“I’m not going to apologize, Will. This is the only way the bureau will let me keep you as a special agent. You’re saving lives, Will. You can play nice.” 

He didn’t respond, only stood and pushed his way out of the room. Jack didn’t follow him but the stench of his frustration followed Will out of the room. He couldn’t give a shit one way or the other. His relationship with Jack was tense more often than not. It didn’t bother him. Jack needed to pick his brain once and a while, and Will got back to doing what he did best. It was a win-win despite their sometimes strained relationship. 

He stalked back to his Sedan with his hands shoved in his coat pockets; his companion, the ever- vigilant ravenstag, walked at his heels as if he was nothing more than a much larger member of his pack. Wind roughly tousled his dark curls and sliced through the fabric of his jacket. It was getting to late October and soon he’d be needing a real coat. 

Will didn’t hate the cold. There was something comforting about it. He’d been a loner all his life, mostly seeing himself as too weird to be around other people. The cold had its way of destroying friendliness; made everyone as alone as himself, all too worried about getting somewhere warmer to deal with other humans. It was easier going outside in a coat and scarf and not have to brush past people on crowded streets. 

As he reached for the handle of his car door he was startled by a voice behind him. When he turned to see doctor Lecter leaning against a Bentley parked only a few spaces away he didn’t know why he was surprised. Of course the man waited for him and of course he drove a fucking Bentley. 

“Hello, Will.” 

“Hello, doctor Lecter.” 

“I get the sense you weren’t particularly happy to see me today.” 

Will shifted awkwardly with his hands in his pockets. “I’ll admit I wasn’t expecting to see you again.” 

“And how do you feel now that you have?”

“I didn’t drive down here today to have you pick my brain, doctor.” 

The predatory smile made its way to Hannibal’s lips. “Of course you didn’t. I only waited for you because I wanted to offer you an invitation.” 

“An invitation?”

“The same one I offered in Jack’s office, although I would love to have you on your own.” 

Will scoffed. “I don’t see that happening.” 

“I do.”  _ Bastard.  _

Grabbing the handle of his unlocked car, Will got into the driver’s seat. “Well then, I suppose it’s polite to say nice to meet you, but I’ve got to get home.” 

“I look forward to seeing you, Will.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one's kind of short and filler, sorry. I have some cool ideas I'm trying to figure out how to incorporate so the next chapter will be a lot more interesting. Thanks for reading. :)

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first chapter of a fic that's based on the idea that Will made his first kill on his own shortly before meeting Hannibal. I don't know how long it will end up being, but if you made it this far, thanks for reading and I hope you'll continue. :) More characters, tags, etc. will be added as this moves along.


End file.
